


In Remembrance

by Fireflower34



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Cinna is amazing, District 12, District 13 (mentioned sorta), Gen, One Shot, Post-Mockingjay, Pre-Epilogue, Short One Shot, i needed to post something for Cinna, post-rebellion, sorta rant fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:02:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21896356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fireflower34/pseuds/Fireflower34
Summary: Katniss remembers Cinna, and some things he left behind
Relationships: Cinna & Katniss Everdeen, idk, implied?, mentioned? - Relationship
Comments: 5
Kudos: 4





	In Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sincerely sorry for the quality of this writing  
> I wrote this in Utah at night after rereading Catching Fire  
> Cinna is my favorite character, but i didn't think I could write him very well  
> but I needed to post something for the wonderful stylist that first got Panem to notice our Girl on Fire  
> I've never been good at writing thought processes, so probably ooc  
> read at your own risk

Katniss goes back, after the rebellion.  
Goes to her old home in 12, and shifts through it.  
She isn’t really sure what to expect, but she decided to revisit old memories, from when everything had been simpler.  
Hunt with Gale, trade game for money, hate her mother, miss her father, keep Prim safe.  
That day of the reaping changed everything.  
Katniss runs a hand over ash-covered wall of her house, her fingers leaving trails on the dusty surface. They’d started a scrapbook of some sorts, in memory of all those whose lives were lost.  
Lost in riots, lost as punishment, lost in battle, lost for the rebellion, lost for her.  
She pauses, remembering her original reason for returning.  
Her feet send up little puffs of ash and dust as they touch the floor. The wisps of gray so much like the smoke that rolled off her dress the day of the interview.  
She comes to a stop at a closet door, trailing her hands down the front, onto the handle, and tugs it open  
The outfits look as brilliant as they did the day he made them. His presence in the flash of sequins, a streak of gold stitches, the shifting colors of fabric.  
Cinna  
Brilliant, enigmatic, lovely, Cinna  
She remembers thinking those exact words so long ago when she stood in the ashes of her home for the first time.  
They fit him today as well as they did that day  
She reaches out and grasps the smooth silk of a sky blue dress with small jewels in every shade of blue scattered on the bottom, decreasing in number the closer to the top of the dress. The fabric shimmers when she touches it, the light catching on the gems like it did the day of her first interview.  
(I’m sorry)  
She buries her face in the fabric, remembering the day he was taken away  
(You should have been here to see it)  
She thinks back to when he turned her into a Mockingjay for the first time  
(The spark that grew into an inferno)  
(You helped start it you know)  
His sketchbook is in her house in the Victor’s Village, each design the same as it was when it was first drawn, ideas he never made reality, snippets of inspiration, each one with notes filling the margins, types of fabric, the length of the dress, the color of thread.  
(the rebellion won)  
Silk, velvet, leather  
(there's no more Capitol)  
knee-length, ankle, mid-calf  
(Snow is gone)  
Indigo, teal, silver  
(I wonder if this is the future you wanted)  
Katniss lifts her head, letting go of the blue dress, and runs her fingers over the others, she recognizes the orange dress she wore to 11, the emerald one from 9, and several she’d never seen that seemed to match the designs in his sketchbook. A dark spot forms on the lavender dress she’s holding, and she realizes that tears are running down her face. She wipes them away with the back of one hand and lets go of the dress.  
She’d have to bring his prep team back here to collect the rest of them.  
A faint smile makes its way onto her face and she thinks of the first time they saw them, when their only objective was to get Annie a dress for the wedding.  
She’s sure the second would provoke a different reaction.  
(I hope I didn’t disappoint you)  
(I hope you didn’t die in vain)  
She can imagine his voice, the gentle smile to accompany his kind words,  
“It’s over Cinna,”  
She whispers the words to the rack of dresses, as if they held the last of his essence.  
In a way, they did and didn’t  
He would exist forever in her heart  
But she would bring them back  
They were his, after all, even if they were designed for her  
Yet she couldn’t carry them herself  
She closes the door and steps outside, waving down the helicopter that brought her here to inform the pilot of her idea.  
The wind blows her hair back as the copter descends, the brown strands neatly woven into her mother’s intricate braid.  
With extra hands, they could retrieve his works of art, a physical token of her stylist and friend, who perhaps did more for the rebellion than anyone would ever know, the man who first coaxed a flame from the smoldering embers of her spirit, and set it ablaze for the world to see.  
Light reflects off the symbol of district 13 as the copter lands, and Katniss whispers one last thing to be lost in the wind  
“Thank you, Cinna”

**Author's Note:**

> *sniffles*  
> Cinna why??  
> His death doesn't seem real to me  
> Susanne never confirmed it  
> but here you go, my first one-shot, and Hunger Games fic will be about Cinna and Katniss  
> :')  
> Rest in piece Cinna  
> (Someone, help, how do i do itallics??)


End file.
